Марсианские хроники
June 2003: Way in the Middle of the Air
"Ikepttellingher,«Lucinda,»Isaid,«youstayonandIraiseyourpay,andyougettwonightsoffaweek,ifyouwant,»butshejustlookedset!Ineverseenhersoset,andIsaid,«Don’tyouloveme,Lucinda?»andshesaidyes,butshehadtogobecausethat’sthewayitwas,isall.Shecleanedthehouseanddusteditandputluncheononthetableandthenshewenttotheparlordoorand—andstoodtherewithtwobundles,onebyeachfoot,andshookmyhandandsaid,«Good-by,Mrs.Teece.»Andshewentoutthedoor.Andtherewasherluncheononthetable,andallofustooupsettoeveneatit.It’sstilltherenow,Iknow;lasttimeIlookeditwasgettingcold."
Teecealmoststruckher."Goddamnit,Mrs.Teece,yougetthehellhome.Standin’theremakin’asightofyourself!"
"But,Pa…"
Hestrodeawayintothehotdimnessofthestore.Hecamebackoutafewsecondslaterwithasilverpistolinhishand.
Hiswifewasgone.
Theriverflowedblackbetweenthebuildings,witharustleandacreakandaconstantwhisperingshuffle.Itwasaveryquietthing,withagreatcertaintytoit;nolaughter,nowildness,justasteady,decided,andceaselessflow.
Teecesatontheedgeofhishardwoodchair."Ifoneof’emsomuchaslaughs,byChrist,I’llkill’em."
Themenwaited.
Theriverpassedquietlyinthedreamfulnoon.
"Lookslikeyougoin’tohavetohoeyourownturnips,Sam,"Grandpachuckled.
"I’mnotbadatshootin’whitefolksneither."Teecedidn’tlookatGrandpa.
